


Fading Colours

by Nui (Nuiihren)



Series: Curse of Strahd Shorts Collection [1]
Category: Curse of Strahd - Fandom
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Escher's sad sad life, M/M, Strahd being Strahd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuiihren/pseuds/Nui
Summary: Escher used to be an adventurer, brought into the mists of Barovia to fight Strahd like many before and after him. Long gone are his companions, only he remained as one of Strahd's consorts. The memories of his past live on in his paintings, but, slowly, even that fades away...
Relationships: Escher (Curse of Strahd)/Strahd von Zarovich
Series: Curse of Strahd Shorts Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031067
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Fading Colours

Red rooftops of the small village in the picture were outlined by the deep golden glow of the setting sun. The tree crowns of the forest seemed just about to move in the soft summer wind, a sliver of a creek glistering between them.

“Is this your home town?” Strahd asked.

“Yes.”

“It is quite beautiful.”

Escher’s heart didn’t leap at his praise - it couldn’t anymore - but what he felt was so similar to that, he didn’t even have to try to mistake one for the other. 

“You think so? It’s… nothing, really. It’s only because… the paint you gave me is of such high quality.”

The man shook his head. “You shouldn’t be needlessly modest. If I say it’s good, it is so,” again he studied the canvas, expression unreadable. “You must miss it… there’s a sense of melancholy to the colours.”

“I…” Escher wanted to deny it, but as Strahd raised his eyes to look at him, he realised he couldn’t possibly lie. “I do…” he whispered almost inaudibly, “a bit.”

A part of him instinctively braced for something… anger? He didn’t even know why. But instead Strahd smiled with unmistakable sympathy.

“It’s understandable,” he said softly, “there are things from my old life that I still miss too. I’d be happy to tell you it goes away after a while, but I’m afraid it never does so completely.”

The sadness in his voice hit Escher with an overwhelming intensity he rarely felt himself anymore and, struck by a hunger not unlike that for blood, he reached for it, mesmerized. How strange it was to see this all-powerful man so vulnerable, if even for a moment. No, it made sense, of course, he’d been locked in Barovia for centuries already. _So stupid of me to complain_ , Escher thought, _when he has it so much worse._ Suddenly emboldened, he touched the man’s cold cheek. Strahd’s eyes looked back at him, waiting, examining, as Escher drew closer.

“I don’t miss it so badly when I’m here with you,” Escher murmured in his ear and saw his smile growing a little wider, lips parting to reveal the fangs. The past didn’t matter, Escher realised, all he wanted was to give this man everything now. Strahd’s hands were heavy on his waist, fingers already gliding underneath the fabric of his shirt, and the taste of his lips felt sweeter than the kiss of the sun could ever hope to be.

*

...But that was years, no, decades ago. How many, Escher couldn’t even tell, and every time he’d guide his brush along the canvas, the result came out a bit bleaker than before. It had been years since Strahd took interest in his pictures, too.

“Why do you keep drawing the village of Barovia?” Anastrasya asked him one day, looking over his shoulder.

“It’s not,” Escher started, “it’s where I’m from. It’s called...”

He could not remember the name. And as he stared at his work, it didn’t look anything like the place where he’d been born. The sky was overcast with heavy clouds, mists moving over the dreary grey roofs of sordid old houses. The forest in the background was menacing and dark, no sunlight could hope to reach into its depth.


End file.
